


That Voice

by Khiori63



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khiori63/pseuds/Khiori63
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mission goes horribly wrong, Kirk is left wondering if the race to save a life, always victorious in the past, may finally be lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Voice

 

      He wondered how long he'd lain there, alone and in the dark.It seemed an eternity, made worse by the very real possibility if and when he was found, it could be too late.  For he was in a race against death and the only question was who would win this time.  It was a race he'd run too often in the past and each time, death seemed to get a little faster while all he got was older.

 

      Shifting position slightly, he tried once again to rise.  This time he made it to his knees before he collapsed.  Blackness rose and he gritted his teeth, fighting it back as he willed himself to remain conscious.  He felt helpless enough without the added ignominy of lying there insensible.  He had lost his communicator in the brief scuffle and while it was probably somewhere nearby, it might as well be a million kilometers away.   He dare not call out for help, as it was possible his assailants were still in the area.  If so, the last thing he wanted was for them to know he still lived, as they would undoubtedly strike again.  And while it was more likely they were long gone by now, still, he couldn't take that chance.  All he could do, despite his increasing pain and weakness, was lie there in silence and wait.  And hope.

 

      Hope that Spock would find him.  If anyone could, it would be his Vulcan.  Kirk had lost count of how many times they'd come to each other's rescue, suspending fear and doubt, living off faith and trust until they were reunited once again.  Spock.  The one person who was always there when Kirk needed him.  He fought back the anger and hopelessness that rose at the thought.  So where was Spock now?

 

      No.  That wasn't fair.  He himself should have known better than to agree to take this assignment on his own, without any backup.  Damn Starfleet anyway.  Just because their contact wanted it this way was no reason for them to agree.  No matter how important his supposed information was.  Kirk had come prepared for a trap, but he hadn't been able to fend off the four beings that jumped him as soon as he'd arrived.  Or the fifth that aimed his disruptor straight at Kirk and fired while he lay helpless on the ground.  Then they simply disappeared, leaving him to die in this abandoned, darkened alley.  Alone...

 

      He shivered as the last fading rays of the sun were replaced by the damp chill of night.  But he welcomed the cold-it wrapped him in a haze of semi-awareness, dulling the pain that was his constant companion.  Images flashed in front of him - Bones, Scotty, the bridge, his much-loved Enterprise.  And, of course, Spock.  The face he would recognize anywhere, the soft brown eyes that were the windows to that secret soul, the deep, rumbling voice that was as familiar as his own.  How many times had he been hurting, lost and confused, and had clung to the sound of that voice, his only link to reality.  He tried to hear it now, but couldn't, could only imagine what it would say to him if it could.  _Wait for me.  I am coming.  You must hold on._ He had no doubt that voice would keep its promise and Spock would come.  But there was a chance this time he would be too late.

 

      The pain of his injuries paled in comparison to the agony of that thought.  He couldn't do that to Spock, he _couldn't_.  But he might not have a choice.  It was Spock who was running the race now and all Kirk could do was hope he would win.  If not...

 

      No.  The race wasn't over yet.  Spock could still be victorious, but only if Kirk was there to greet him at the finish line.  He _had_ to hold on.

 

      He focused his thoughts on all the memories they shared, glimpses of their life together.  The bad times - Gary, Edith, the fiasco that was Spock's wedding, all because of that bitch T'Pring, and the good - shore leaves exploring and hiking through the wilderness, quiet evenings playing chess, shared meals where comfortable silence was a balm for the soul, the adrenaline rush that came with exploring a new world side-by-side, and most of all, nights spent in bed together, where love and passion were given free rein...

 

      Warmth rose, despite the cold night air.  Those memories were the most special, most cherished of all and he savored each one, using them to comfort and encourage his flagging spirit.  _I can't give up.  I won't._

His fists clenched in determination.  It could not, _would not_ end like this, in some dismal, dark alley, dying alone.  He _had_ to see Spock again, to hold him in his arms, to make love and more memories for years to come.  _Find me.  Please, find me._

Pain rose once again, worse this time, constricting his chest, making it difficult to breathe.  He shifted position slightly, trying to ease the pressure, gasping for breath as he rode out the accompanying wave of agony.  After what seemed an eternity, the pain receded somewhat and he was able to breathe again.  He lay there panting, dazed and exhausted as he fought to conserve what little strength he had left.  But he knew it wouldn't be enough.  If he was going to survive, to continue the fight, then he needed rest.  Only then would he have any chance of winning, of seeing Spock again.  His eyes slowly closed as he let himself drift away...

 

      A sound drew his attention and he opened his eyes as the shadows at the entrance of the alley disappeared, to be replaced by a coalescing form.  Moonlight glinted off glossy black hair and dark eyes, deeper than usual, met his own.  It was the vision he'd longed to see and now that it was here, he knew it would follow him anywhere, even the downward spiral into death.  The thought filled him with peace. 

 

      The figure approached and knelt over him.  He could see more details now-the blue tunic, the face he knew so well.  The eyes were bright as a hand reached out.  He closed his eyes, hoping that if he held onto the vision tight enough, he would be able to feel that touch, the one thing that could keep him going, even in his most desperate hour.  He wanted - _he needed_ to feel that touch.

 

      He was not disappointed.  Even lighter than he remembered, the touch was gentle and soothing, first on his cheek, then moving down to take his hand, grasping it tightly.  It felt so real and he basked in the security of that touch, as safe as a newborn baby cradled in its mother's arms.  He smiled and whispered the beloved name.

 

      And was answered.  The voice cut through the fog in his brain like a knife and he began struggling to rise, wanting, _needing_ to grasp hold of the vision, fearing if he didn't, it would fade away and he would once again be alone.  The pain was overwhelming, but he fought against it, refusing to give in, to surrender.  A hand gently pressed him back down and he relented, but still reached out to touch, to feel...warmth.  And underneath, the beat of a living heart.  The eyes were still watching him, steady and solid, yet filled with concern.  Something in them seeped through the haze in his mind, bringing back some semblance of awareness.  Could this be more than a vision?  He said the name again, a question this time.  It answered, and he was sure.  The voice was real, the soothing tones washing over him.  The words weren't important; it was the voice that lifted him above the pain of his injuries, giving him hope and the strength to fight, to live.  No more fear, no more despair.  Spock was here.  Everything was going to be all right.

 

      He let the voice carry him away.

 

      It was the first thing he heard when he woke up.  He didn't bother to decipher the words, he just lay there listening, letting the soothing sound wash over him.  He knew he was in Sickbay - where else would he be?  But he wasn't alone, would never be alone.  Spock was there, at his side.  A link to life, to sanity.  To love.

 

      He heard the voice waver a bit and realized that maybe Spock wasn't so sure that he was okay, that everything would indeed be all right.  Not surprising - he had yet to move, to give any sign he was awake and aware, as he was content just to lie there and listen.  But Spock needed more.

 

      Opening his eyes took more effort than he expected, but eventually he succeeded.  He locked a fuzzy gaze onto brown eyes dark with concern.  He smiled and was instantly rewarded as those eyes lit up, a look of relief crossing the austere features.  He felt a hand rest on his and the voice lowered to a gentle whisper.  Content that all was well between them, Kirk closed his eyes once more.  He knew Spock would wait for him, would be there when he woke up again, because they were always there for each other.  Yesterday, today, and for all the tomorrows to come. 

 

He quietly drifted off, the soft voice keeping him company all the way.


End file.
